


High Hopes Low Assassin HP

by Goldstone_Wolf



Series: High Hopes Low (Blank) [64]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), High Hopes Low Rolls (Web Series)
Genre: Arrows, Canon-Typical Violence, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Gen, Gore, Major Character Injury, Mild Blood, Mild Gore, Murder, Plus Some Bandits, Werewolves, arrow wounds, crossbow bolts, does being shot with an arrow count as impalement?, minor murder, tws for:, what it says on the tin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:54:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26430751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goldstone_Wolf/pseuds/Goldstone_Wolf
Summary: During a fight, Malark is shot in the back with a crossbow bolt.
Series: High Hopes Low (Blank) [64]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1692196
Kudos: 7





	High Hopes Low Assassin HP

**Author's Note:**

> TWs in tags. My mom gave me yogurt covered pretzels so rather than type I'm going to eat the pretzels.

It was an ambush.

Malark and Paddy had been keeping watch, when the latter realised that he could hear something moving in the woods beyond. When he had turned, a crossbow bolt shot out of the shadows. He had ducked back in time to avoid being shot through the eye, but the tip of the bolt carved a line across his cheek with the same kind of callous ferocity as fire lighting kindling. Jerking back, he shouted a warning to everyone and then prepped to do a little bit of magic. He didn’t get the chance—something barrelled out of the shadows and pinned him to the floor.

It was one of the first times he’d ever come close to a werewolf.

Massive claws tore into his shoulder, and in the dim light he could see slaver dripping from its massive fangs. Glowing yellow eyes glared down at him as the werewolf snarled, and Paddy screamed as he felt it tearing at his stomach. White scales flashed and Nagar tackled the beast off of him. “Whitlaw!” Malark ducked to his side, and Paddy dodged away when another one of their attackers lunged into the fray. Silver flared white in the moonlight streaking between barren branches, and Paddy saw Malark take a slash to the upper arm. Growling, he pulled his knives out, flipped one, and drove it into the person’s neck. They stumbled to the side, grabbing at the wound, and Malark ran to Paddy. “Hey, focus on me. Did he bite you?”

“What?” Malark repeated the question, and Paddy glanced down at his injuries. “N-no. They’re only scratches.”

“Put pressure on them, get up in the tree. Zada!” The moon elf glanced over, seemed to realise the situation Paddy was in, and Malark helped them both up into the tree behind him. The werewolf bellowed, and Nagar roared right back at it. Dragonborn and werewolf clashed, and Malark darted back into the fight.

“Paddy, focus on me.” Fingers tapped his cheek and he turned to see Zada working on the slashes on his stomach. “I need you to put pressure on your shoulder, as much as you can and then some. If you fall out of the tree you might break your neck.” Nodding, he raised his fingers and pressed down on the injuries, watching the fight. It hurt, but his heart was roaring in his ears and throat and he barely even registered the pain.

Malark was slashing through one enemy after another, shouting warnings and watching the others’ backs as he tore through the crowd. Mina and Terra were battling close by one another, almost a whirlwind of damage and attacks, and the other bandits ( _why was it always bandits? What part of a person saw a party as big as theirs and thought, “Oh, I know what I’m doing today”?_ ) were jumping in with attacks where they could. Gimgar had thrown herself into the fight as well, and Brio and Ryce had scaled a tree to shout curses and songs at their attackers. Ava was just…Paddy actually couldn’t see her, things were starting to go a little dark.

“’ada? I don…don’t feel th’ good…” The world started tilting to the side and he heard Zada mutter some curses under her breath, holding him a little closer. Her hand cradled his head, and he saw Malark up in one of the other trees. A little way behind him, impossibly dim against the moonlight, was a small flash of silver. It shifted, and at the last second Paddy realised it was directed at Malark. “Mal—”

_“Malark, look out!”_

+++

_“Malark, look out!”_

Something smacked him in the back, and Malark took a step forward with a rather awkward grunt from the impact. Mina screamed, and he swore he heard the sickening, daunting _thwack_ of an arrow driving into a body. Blinking, he glanced down and realised, _oh, that’s where that sound came from._ Sprouting from the front of his shirt, just below where his ribs ended and just to the right of his spine, was the bloodied tip of crossbow bolt. _That’s…not good…_

The world started tipping forward and he didn’t even have the time to brace for impact before the leaf- and stick-strewn ground below him rushed up to meet his face. There was a heavy _thud_ and a moment of _oh I’m on the ground_ before the pain really hit and then he let out a growl and tried to pull his arms underneath him so he could get up. He pressed a weak, shaking hand to where the arrow had started to exit and slowly sat up. One of the bandits was staring at him in horror—apparently, she thought that the crossbow bolt was enough to take him out. “It’d be best if you left right now.” Malark snarled, slowly easing himself upright with one blade in hand. Taking a breath, he forced his voice to sound stronger than he felt. “Because that’s hardly going to take one of us out.”

As if to prove this, Nagar threw the bandits’ werewolf friend into the closest tree. He hit the trunk with a mighty _crack_ and then slumped, unconscious but not dead, to the ground in his human form. Stepping back, the bandits all glanced to the girl who’d looked to Malark. She had to be the leader. A pity, too—Malark was hardly older than she was.

Stepping back, eyes wide, the girl gestured to the others. Two of them collected their unconscious werewolf friend, and then they all disappeared into the night. “Should we go after them?” Brio asked, and Malark paused and then looked at the tree where Zada and Paddy were.

“No. We have enough to worry about as it is, and they’re not worth wasting our time and energy on. Or our spells.” He added, limping over to the tree. Or rather, he tried to. The wound in his stomach and what he had a sickening feeling was either a dislocated knee or hip took full effect, and he had to stumble over to a fallen log before he dropped to the ground in what would be a rather embarrassing way. He’d already had to face the reality of pushing himself too far and then having to be carried back to town, he didn’t feel like facing that again. “Zada, how’s Paddy?”

“Alright. Nagar, can you help me get him down?” The white dragonborn headed over, Gimgar at his side, and Malark glanced up at the stars in the night sky before taking a breath. He could still feel the crossbow bolt where it was—wasn’t like they were made to be _comfortable_ , after all. But they were fine, and that was what mattered.

They were High Hopes—they could face anything.

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted this to go a different way and then both my inspiration and Malark (in a way) said, “screw you goldstone” and did what they wanted. Typing feels nice, especially because I haven’t done it in about a day. Sims 4 and all.


End file.
